Page 5 of Here With Me
“Speakin’ ofscreamin’. Go celebrate by talkin’ to the sexy cowboy. Maybe he’ll have ya screamin’ later for a different reason.” Magnolia pushes me toward the stairs, and if I weren’t living on this adrenaline high, I’d run in the other direction.
I don’t mind taking risks. In fact, I thrive off the excitement of trying new things. But when it comes to dating and guys in general, I say things that get me in trouble.
“Good thing I’m wearin’ my lucky cowboy boots.” And my favorite white floral sundress that makes my boobs look awesome. It’s the beginning of summer, and the temp is already in the low eighties, so I wasn’t about to sweat my ass off being outside most of the day.
Magnolia smirks and urges me to go.
I walk up to his row, excuse myself as I shift my body in front of a few people, then sit next to him.
“Hi.” I angle my body toward him as he takes a swig of his Budweiser.
He chokes when he realizes I’m speaking to him.
“Hi,” he coughs out.
“You don’t mind if I sit here, do ya? I saw you kept lookin’ at me and thought maybe I was in your way.” I flash him a mischievous smile, then pretend to look in the same direction as I was standing. Tilting my head to where I stood, I add, “But now that I’m here, I don’t see how I coulda blocked your view.”
I return my gaze to his as a half smirk forms across his face. “No, I could see just fine.”
His deep timbre has a shiver rippling down my spine. I’m eager to hear it again.
“Oh, good. So ya musta been glarin’ at me for another reason.” Our knees are almost touching, and I’m tempted to inch closer until they do.
He stares at me as if he’s contemplating his words. “I wasn’t glarin’.”
“Coulda fooled me. You were definitely starin’ awfully hard, then.” I lick my lips and wait for him to elaborate on why he fixated on me. When the awkward silence drags on, I continue, “Anyway…since you seem as comfortable as a cat in cold water with me sittin’ here, I’ll go back to my friend. You’re free to join me. The view is great.”
“Not as great as mine was.”
I stare at him—half shocked and half giddy at his words. “A-are you hittin’ on me?”
“Maybe I am.”
Crossing my legs, I wave him on. “Well then, just go on and ask me.”
He tilts his head as wrinkles form between his brows. “Ask you what?”
“For my number.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Noah. What’s yours?”
“Fisher.”
“I like that. So now that we know each other, do ya want my number or not?”
He brings his bottle back to his tempting lips and watches me over the neck while he takes a sip. “You’re very blunt.”
“And why shouldn’t I be?” I ask, keeping our gazes locked. “Are you used to shy women? Is that what ya prefer? If I’m not your type, you can just say so. It won’t hurt my feelings.”
“That’s not it.”
I shrug and say, “Okay,” as if his lack of eagerness didn’t bruise my ego. “If ya change your mind, I’m bartendin’ at the Cantina lounge tonight. First beer’s on me.”
I’ve been a volunteer for the past few years since my family’s ranch is a sponsor. My brothers pitch in too, but they don’t do it for the charity proceeds. They’re only after single girls’ numbers, which is exactly why they’ll need a babysitter at the fundraiser.
Before Fisher can respond, I sashay myself out of his row and back toward Magnolia.
